


Brotherly duty

by crazynadine



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Homophobic Language, Iggy tries to be a good brother, M/M, Prison, Swearing, prison boyfriends, talking about feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-18 21:53:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20320084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazynadine/pseuds/crazynadine
Summary: When Iggy hears Mickey's turned himself in, Mandy convinces him to head down to Beckman and visit his brother. Iggy gets more than he bargained for, and ends up actually doing something nice.





	Brotherly duty

**Author's Note:**

> my friend terri asked the gallavich fanfic book club for a fic where iggy goes to see mick in jail and runs into ian while up there. this is what came outta that. just a quick little thing that came to me in the middle of binging avengers movies. 
> 
> hope it's up to snuff.

"What?" 

"You heard me, numskull." 

"No, but...what?" Iggy scratched the back of his head, confusion filling his brain. No way, there's just no way.

"You are the biggest moron I've ever had the displeasure of being related to." his baby sister sighed. Iggy could hear her moving around on the other side of the line, doing god knows what. "Mickey is back. At fucking Beckman. Turned himself in, made a deal. Got five years, two and a half to serve. Can I make it any simpler for you?" 

Iggy shook his head, like that would clear up the confusion. He's too stoned for this shit. He put his beer down on the cluttered coffee table before dropping down in the ratty arm chair. His apartment was nothing special, but it was his, god damn it. So he doesn't pay any attention to the mess most of the time. 

"Mands, I just don't get it. Why the hell would he come BACK? Why would he turn himself in? Milkovichs don't do that shit." 

"And what has being a Milkovich ever done for any of us, Igg?" Mandy shot back. Iggy grimaced. 

She wasn't wrong. 

Iggy was living in Cicero these days. A shithole city outside Chicago. Just as bad as the south side if not worse. Mandy was out in Detroit, doing shit Iggy didn't wanna know about. (hookers and high end call girls are fucking sweet, but not when they're your baby sister, fuck you very much.) Joey and Colin are doing Fed time for some prescription drug scam, all Terry's doing, of course. They took the wrap for the old man, and Terry's been in the wind ever since. 

Iggy's not ashamed to say he doesn't miss the old bastard, not one bit. 

Since his family scattered on the breeze, Iggy's been doing his best to get his shit together. Jail sucks, being strung out sucks worse. He's getting too old for that shit. He doesn't wanna end up like his brothers, doing hard time. Iggy's seen the inside of county jail enough to last a lifetime at this point. 

He works as a janitor for a company that cleans corporate offices in and around Chicago. It's bullshit work, but it's honest, and the dude that runs the agency isn't too strict on the criminal record shit, thank god. 

So he drives his shitbox car to work every day, cleans toilets and empties trashes, and goes home. 

He had a girl, for a bit. Tammy was okay, but she skipped out after she got knocked up. Asked Iggy for half the money for an abortion and after he dropped two bills in her hand, she was gone and he never saw her again. 

Iggy doesn't mind. He really doesn't. 

His life is shit, but at least he's not locked up. 

Which is more than he can say for Mickey, clearly. 

"I'm just sayin' is all. You don't snitch." Iggy answered his sister petulantly. 

"Oh fuck off with that tired shit. You know as well as I do, that life leads nowhere." Iggy listened as his sister sighed and lit a cigarette on the other end of the line. Mandy exhaled heavily before speaking again. "I can't get back for a few weeks, but someone needs to go up there. You're not doing shit. You do it." 

"Eh." Iggy groaned. "I don't wanna go up there. The screws know me." 

"All the screws in all the jails know you." Mandy spat back, growing irritated. "And this isn't about you. Mick's up there, alone. He doesn't know we know he's back. He's got no one to help him out. That's our fucking job, Igg. He's your brother as much as he's mine. So you're fucking going." 

"Alright, alright." Iggy said. Mandy was not fucking around. 

And....it wouldn't be so bad to see Mick again. It's been years at this point since he's seen his fruity baby brother. Mandy's right, Mick needs him. 

Even if Iggy thinks he's the biggest moron on the fucking planet for getting himself locked up in the first place. Over Gallagher of all people. 

Now...Iggy doesn't give a fuck that his brother's a fag. Never has. Sure, it was weird at first. Iggy had grown up under the assumption that Milkovichs couldn't be queer. It just wasn't possible. Their DNA didn't work that way or whatever. So, when Mick told him he was a homo, well, Iggy kinda lost his shit. It was just so...weird. 

But the first time he really saw Mickey with Gallagher, all those questions just kinda flew out the window. It was obvious how much those two little queers liked each other. Even when Mickey was being a dick, Iggy could read the affection on his face clear as day. Mickey had always been good at hiding how he really felt. Until he met Gallagher that is. 

Iggy's not really a fan of Ian, though. Not after everything he put Mickey through. Not the bipolar bullshit. That's not Ian's fault. Mandy explained to him that it's like having diabetes or cancer or whatever, but instead of killing you, it just makes your brain all wacky. Ups and downs. Like a meth binge, but without the bad teeth. 

But Iggy's beef with Ian doesn't have shit to do with his fucking disorder. Iggy's beef with Ian has everything to do with Mickey. 

Because Iggy was fucking there when Ian went off the deep end. He watched his brother flail and freak out. He helped Mickey physically restrain Ian when he tried to slit his wrists. He listened to Mickey bawl like a baby behind closed doors when Ian was off fucking all the faggots in Boystown while Mickey chased him all over town like a bitch, begging him to come home, get help. 

Iggy was there when Ian stole Yevvy. Saw the haunted, horrified look in Mickey's eyes as they sat chain smoking as Mickey called Ian's cell over and over, always getting voicemail. 

And Iggy was there after Ian dumped Mickey. After everything his brother did for that ginger fuck, the kid just shit all over Mick. Told him to fuck off, that he was done. 

After that, Mickey kinda just folded in on himself. Iggy had never seen him so fucking sad. Drinking himself almost to death and buying mad drugs on credit. Dangerous shit, even for them. 

But what the fuck could Iggy do about it? They weren't really 'heart to heart' type people. Iggy isn't good at that shit. He's not a good brother, he's not really all that good a person. So he'd just kept his mouth shut and watched it all fall apart. 

Then, Mickey got arrested. 

Then Iggy got arrested. 

While Iggy was doing a six month bid in county for returns fraud, Mickey fucking escaped from jail and hopped the fucking border. 

An impressive feat, even for a Milkovich. 

That was the last Iggy heard of him, until this exact moment. 

"Ignatious! You weeping puss wound!" his sister screeched over the line. "Are you listening??" 

"Fuck, Mandy." Iggy groaned, shaking his head. "Yeah. I'm listening....what did you say?"

"You are a fucking asshole." Mandy sighed, sounding more put-upon by the moment. "I said I am going to send you a Western Union. A hundred bucks. You are to take it down to Beckman and put it on Mick's books. DO NOT spend it. Or I will drive down there and skin you alive. I mean it." 

"Yeah, yeah." Iggy replied, kinda pissed Mandy even felt the need to say that shit. "I wouldn't do that, jesus." 

Mandy sighed, and it sounded more tired and angry this time. "I know, sorry. It's just...this is so fucked up, y'know?" 

"What else is new?" Iggy replied, not really knowing what else to say. 

"Yeah, I guess." Mandy replied quietly. "So...go down there. Put the money on his books, maybe visit for a minute? Tell him I'll be down as soon as I can. We're both on the visitors list from the last time he was locked up. Okay?" 

"Okay." 

"Iggy, I mean it. You gotta do this." 

"I will, Mands." Iggy replied honestly. "Promise." 

"Good." Mandy sounded so relieved, it made some long dormant part of Iggy flutter back to life. 

Brother. 

Shit, he was a brother. 

He had two people in his life that fucking needed him, even if they'd never admit it. 

Joey and Colin were lost causes by this time. Too fucked in the head on Terry's bullshit to ever be worth much. 

But Mickey and Mandy, Iggy could be there for them. He could be their brother. Do right by them. 

And the weirdest part was, he wanted to. 

Well, fuck. 

***

Ian sighed, leaning up against the grey brick wall at his back. He's not supposed to listen. That's part of the job. Give privacy whenever possible. So he just sits back, staring off into space, while keeping an ear out for any trouble. 

There's hardly ever any trouble on these visits, which is why it's one of Ian's favorite parts of his prison job. He works for the infirmary. Not IN the infirmary, mind you. They'd never let him in there with his record. He's a dangerous criminal now, don't you know? And an arsonist, if the DA is to be believed. 

So no, he can't work in the hospital wing, but he can and does work with the sick patients. He does things like walk wheelchair patients around the yard, or do simple physical therapy exercises with injured patients. He reads to the blind and practices his sign language with the deaf. He even has arts and crafts time with the elderly lifers, who have lower security status due to their old age and declining cognition. 

It's not a bad job for a bipolar convict. Ian likes it. 

Today, he's sitting in on Carlos's visit with his family. Carlos is an inmate who'd been stabbed not too long ago, still recovering from massive infections and organ failure. He needs constant care and attention, hence Ian sitting by while he visits with his baby mama. Just in case Carlos goes into shock or has another seizure. 

Ian's been zoning out for about fifteen minutes when the door to the visiting room opens and Ian can hear CO Dillon's cocky voice traveling across the visiting room. 

"You know the drill, guy. Sit down and shut up, your lowlife brother will be through as soon as we can scrounge him up." 

"You're tellin' me he ain't here yet?" a voice bellows back, and Ian's heart seizes up. 

No way. No fucking way. 

"I've been waitin' an hour already, Dillon, you fuck." Iggy Milkovich spat at the CO as they both wandered into the open visiting room. 

Dillon just shook his head, pointing to an empty table a few feet away form where Ian was sitting with Carlos and his girl. "Sit the fuck down and shut up, Milkovich, or I'm sure we could make you more comfortable." Dillon tapped his pepper spray, smiling evilly. 

"Keep your panties on, princess, I'm fucking sitting." Iggy sighed, flopping down into one of the orange plastic chairs. 

Ian watched him, wary. Iggy hadn't seen him yet, and Ian is taking that as the small favor it is. He is not looking forward to...

"Gallagher?" Iggy's face was the picture of shock. His eyes went comically wide, his mouth flopping open like a fish. 

That lasted for all of about three seconds before his eyes darkened and his face twisted into a mask of rage. Ian watched with his pulse thudding in his ears as Iggy's hands curled into fists and his lips pursed. 

He looked like he wanted to rip Ian's throat out, and bathe in his blood. 

Oh. Shit. 

Ian can feel his face breaking out in a hot blush. His eyes snap over to Iggy before quickly going back to Carlos. 

"You know him?" Carlos asks, nodding toward Iggy. Ian grimaces, shaking his head. 

"Gallagher, you prick!" Iggy snarls, standing from his seat. 

"He seems to know you, dude." Carlos chuckled. "Better go over and say hi before he starts a brawl and fucks up my visit. I won't be happy if that shit happens." Carlos's smile slipped and Ian wondered how a dude in a wheelchair could be so menacing. He sighed again, standing and trudging over to where Iggy was now standing. Arms crossed over his chest, eyebrows knitted together, expression grave. 

"Uh, hey Igg. How you been?" Ian asked carefully. He sat slowly in the chair opposite Iggy's, certain they were about to have 'one of those talks'. 

"Fuck off, how have I been." Iggy balked, clearly irritated. What the fuck was Gallagher doing here? Did Mandy know? Mick obviously knew. Iggy feels ridiculously out of the loop, and seeing Ian again after everything just pisses him right the fuck off. "What the hell are you doing here?" 

"Um, time?" Ian replied, unsure what Iggy was asking. "You heard, right? About the car bomb?" 

Iggy shook his head. What the fuck? "That was you? The queer rights terrorist?" 

"Iggy." Ian groaned. "Keep your fucking voice down, and I'm not a terrorist. Jesus." 

Iggy just scowled. What are the odds? Ian gets pinched for that church fire bullshit, and then Mickey turns himself in...

Ian gets busted....Mickey turns himself in....  
Ian goes to jail...Mickey...  
Oh hell fucking no. 

"This is your fault." Iggy says, finally putting two and two together. (no one ever accused him of being smart.) "Mick came back cuz'a your dumb ass. God damn it, Gallagher. You couldn't just leave him alone, could ya? You had to pull him back into this bullshit." Iggy balled his hands into fists, willing himself not to throw a punch. 

"Iggy, that's not at all how it happened." Ian replied, trying to keep his face calm, passive. The last thing he wanted was to have Iggy start a brawl with him in a visitors room full of women and kids. "Mickey came back cuz he wanted to. He didn't wanna be a fugitive anymore. He wanted to start over. With me." Iggy can see the small, lovesick smile on Ian's face as he talks about Mickey. It pisses him off. Iggy's not sure why, it just doesn't seem fair, that after all Ian's done, he gets this too. To be happy. To have Mickey back without having to do any work or make it right in any way. Ian didn't even TRY to get Mickey back, he just fucked up his life so bad, Mickey felt compelled, like always, to fix it. 

Iggy will never understand it. Why Mickey loves this kid so much. 

"That's bullshit, Gallagher. You know it and I know it." Iggy spat, trying in vain to control his anger. Dillon was standing on the other side of the room, eyeing them with disdain. His hand was still hovering over his pepper spray as he gave Iggy a pointed look. Iggy barely resisted the urge to give that fucker the finger before turning his heated gaze back to Ian. "Look, dude, don't get me wrong, I know Mick's crazy about you. I think he's stupid for it, but it doesn't really matter what I think, does it?" 

"No." Ian replied, arms crossed over his chest. "Not really." 

"Right." Iggy ran a hand through his messy hair, trying to find a way to say this without making it sound like a threat. It took him a second, but he finally got his thoughts in order. "Listen, dude. I know you went through, like hell, and shit. With your brain or whatever. I was there, y'know. With Yev and all that. I, uh, I've never seen Mick that fucked up. Y'know, like sad and shit? It was worse when you took off with your mom. Man, I can't tell you how bad that was. Don't you EVER tell Mick I told you this, or I'll kneecap your ginger ass, but, uh, he cried a lot. Got real drunk and kicked the shit outta himself. Like, punched himself in the face and shit. I found him one morning, covered in blood, broken glass everywhere. He punched a mirror. I gave him eleven stitches in his hand that morning." Iggy shuddered at the memory. "He was so out of it, he probably doesn't even remember, but the whole time I was picking glass outta the cuts and stitchin' him up, he was crying. Mumbling about how you took off, didn't want him no more. How he fucked up, lost you forever. All kinds of crazy, girly bullshit. No offense." 

"None taken." Ian replied quietly. He didn't really know what to think about what Iggy was saying. He knew he'd hurt Mickey back in the day, but he'd never heard any of this before. 

Of course Mickey would never tell him. 

Ian's mind goes to that odd scar on Mickey's left hand. The crescent shaped scar with the white shadow of faint Frankenstein stitches along the web between his thumb and forefinger. 

"Anyway." Iggy said, wanting to end this conversation, like right fucking now. "I didn't even know you were gonna be here. I don't even know what I'm sayin' right now. But now that you're here, I kinda gotta do it." Iggy stared right into Ian's eyes. "Don't fucking do it again, Gallagher. Don't fuck him over. Okay? It's not that fucking hard. Just don't. I know me and Mick aren't close like you and your clowncar family. But him and Mandy's all I got left. I was pissed as fuck when he took off to Mexico, and that shit's on you too." 

Ian grimaced, and Iggy felt a twang of sympathy for him. But it was gone before he really bothered to consider it. 

"So yeah, he's back now. And I'm gonna do what I can to look out for him, even when he's in here. I've already made some calls, I've got two uncles and three cousins in this prison right now." Iggy felt a sick twist of satisfaction in his gut when Ian went ghost pale instantly. "Don't worry, Gallagher, they're not like Terry. Just dudes who will crack a skull if I ask 'em to. They don't give a fuck Mick's gay. But they sure as shit give a fuck if someone screws him over. You get me?" 

"Yeah, Iggy." Ian nodded, face serious. "I get it." 

"Good." Iggy smiled, feeling pretty fucking good about himself. "Listen, man. Just, like, be good to him, or whatever. Make him happy. Listen to him when he wants to bitch, suck his dick, whatever. Just don't fuck him over. And me and you are cool. Hell, I'll even throw you guys an old school Milkovich rager when you wrap this bid. Get you a couple of those oily male strippers with thighs like tree trunks. Huge dicks, whatever." 

"Jesus, Iggy, shut the fuck up." Ian laughed, finally starting to relax. 

"Yeah, yeah. I know. You like your men small and angry." Iggy grinned, waggling his eyebrows. 

Ian just scoffed. In the corner of his eye he saw Carlos's girlfriend standing. Looks like his patient's visit was over. "I gotta go, man." Ian stood, offering his hand to Iggy to shake. Iggy took it, giving Ian a small smile. 

"Good to see ya, man. You and Mick take care of each other, okay? This place ain't no picnic." 

"Don't I know it." Ian laughed, releasing Iggy's hand to follow Carlos out of the visiting room. Just as they were leaving, Mickey finally entered the room. He and Ian nodded to each other, and Iggy watched as they surreptitiously ran their hands along each other's hips, where Dillon couldn't see. 

Iggy smiled. Those sly motherfuckers. 

When Mickey was close enough, Iggy pulled him into a bone crushing hug. 

"What the fuck, Igg, get off." Mickey grumbled, his hands hanging uselessly at his sides. 

"Good to see you too, you little prick." Iggy replied, laughing. 

"Yo! Milkovich, no contact. Quit it with the incest." Dillon barked from the other side of the room. 

Both brothers just kept embracing, simultaneously flipping the CO off. 

"Keep that up, and you'll spend the night in the hole." Dillon said, voice hard. 

"And not the hole you want, either." Iggy giggled, finally dropping his arms. 

"Was that a fucking gay joke?" Mickey laughed, eyebrows raised at his brother.

"Depends." Iggy smirked. "Was it funny?" 

And god damn, it wasn't. But Mickey laughed anyway. 

He missed his brother.

***

What a long fucking crazy day. That shit never happens in jail. When you're locked up, every day is just like the day before, and the day after will be just like the one before. 

Not today, though. Today was a fucking roller coaster of emotions. 

Mickey is sitting in his bunk, a worn paperback copy of Gerald's Game in his lap as he considers the turn the day had taken. 

First it started just after breakfast, after he and Ian split up to go to their separate jobs. Ian was working with invalids and old geezers in the infirmary, doing finger-painting and swing dancing or some shit. Mickey had the decidedly less glamorous job in the laundry. But hell, two dollars and hour was better than nothing. 

On his way down to the laundry, Mickey called his sister, since she promised to put some money on his books. That was when Mandy dropped the bomb that Iggy of all fucking people would be coming by to drop off the money order. 

Mickey hadn't seen Iggy in years. Since he first got locked up on that Sammi bullshit. It's not like Mickey was nervous to see his brother. 

It's just that he was nervous to see his brother. 

But....Iggy had surprised the shit outta him. Iggy was doing real good. As far as Milkovichs go, he was living the American Dream. Had a legit job, apartment of his own, car that ran, registered and everything. He seemed happy, for Iggy at least. 

And he'd been, like, nice to Mickey. Nicer than Mickey can ever remember him being. Telling him he's glad Mickey's back, and he's gonna have his back from now on. How he wants to be a real brother to Mickey from now on. Look out for him, help him out. 

It's fifteen years or so late, but better late than never, right? 

Mickey never woulda thought he'd have Mandy AND Iggy in his corner. Not after all the shit that's gone down. 

It was actually pretty cool, and Mickey feels better about his family than he has since way before he took off across the border. 

He's still sitting there, book open in his hands, considering this odd turn of events when Ian walks in, looking tired but happy to see him. 

"Hey Mick." Ian smiled, checking over his shoulder through the window in the door before leaning down to capture Mickey's lips in a sweet kiss. "How was your day?" 

"Eh, you know. Lotsa starch and questionable cum stains. Life of a laundry aide. How 'bout you?" 

Ian chuckled, shaking his head. "Okay, I guess. Took Carlos to see Juanita today." 

"Oh?" Mickey perked right up. "Did she slap him again?" 

Ian laughed, narrowing his eyes at Mickey. "No. They were perfectly civil this time. How did your visit go?" 

"You mean with Igg?" Mickey asks redundantly. He knows Ian saw Iggy in the visitor's room. "You know what? It was pretty fucking crazy. He was all, like, brotherly?"

"Yeah, figured he might be. He kinda gave me the shovel talk." Ian replied ruefully. 

Mickey quirked an eyebrow at that, placing his book down on his cot. He turned fully toward Ian as his boyfriend dropped down next to him on the shitty mattress. "He did what now?" 

"It was actually kinda sweet, Mick. Even if it made me feel like a piece of shit." 

"Ian, what did he say to you?" Mickey asks, already composing a scathing letter to his brother in his head. 

Ian sighed, wrapping an arm around Mickey's shoulder and pulling him against his body. Mickey cuddled closer, feeling no shame in the comfort Ian's warm body offered him. Ian kissed the top of Mickey's head, humming contentedly. "He just reminded me that I'd hurt you in the past, and he wasn't gonna let me off so easy if I fucked this up again." 

Mickey groaned, irritated with his brother for meddling, but irrationally pleased he'd bother at all. "Oh yeah? How'd that go?" 

"I told him he was right." Ian said, voice quiet. "I always knew I'd hurt you, back then. I knew I did a lot of fucked up shit, but you never really called me on it. Cuz you love me, I know that. But Iggy reminded me. That I'm lucky to have you, and I better be careful, y'know, with this second chance." 

"Cuz I won't give you another?" Mickey guessed, feeling warm and fuzzy inside. 

"That, and he'd kill me slowly and spread my body all over the interstate." Ian chuckled. Mickey laughed too. That is such an Iggy thing to say. 

Their laughter tapered off and they just sat there for a moment, holding each other. 

"I would, y'know." Mickey said after a long stretch of quiet between them. "Give you another chance." 

Ian nodded, his eyes burning with tears. "I know, Mick. But you're not gonna have to. Promise. I'm gonna do better this time." Ian vowed, voice low. After talking with Iggy, Ian knows he's got a lot of work to do to prove himself to Mickey. Even if Mickey never says it, or demands it (which he never will) Ian's going to do his best to love him right, never turn his back on him again. 

"You're with me, Ian. That's all I need. That's all I want. Just stay this time." 

Ian nodded again, pressing his lips to Mickey's soft dark hair. "Promise, Mick. As long as you'll have me, I'm here." 

"Good." Mickey said, standing from the bunk. "C'mon, mac n' cheese in the dining hall tonight." he grabbed Ian's hands and pulled him to stand, pecking his lips quickly. "Then we'll come back here and I'll read to you from my book. If you play your cards right, I'll even suck your dick." 

Ian laughed, shaking his head. "You still know just how to sweet talk me." Mickey grinned, winking like a total fag and bounding out of their shared cell, Ian hot on his heels. 

*** 

A week later, Iggy wandered into his shitty apartment after a long and equally shitty day at work. He had a pizza box in one hand and a six pack of Coors in the other, a few envelopes from his mailbox stuffed precariously between his fingers. 

He dropped all the shit on the coffee table, opening a beer first thing. He stuffed a greasy piece of pizza into his mouth as he flipped through his mail. 

Electric bill. Fuck you.

Parking ticket. Double fuck you. 

Coupons to the Russian Spa on Metcalf Street. Maybe? 

And a letter from Beckman Correctional. 

From his brother....

Iggy sipped his beer before dropping it onto the table in order to rip into the envelope. 

Inside, was a drawing. 

Cartoony, in the style Mickey's been drawing since he was just a kid. 

Two boys, standing in a massive trash heap. Surrounded by garbage and guns, empty booze bottles. But they were hugging each other and smiling, happy inside the massive mess of chaos and junk. 

Underneath the drawing was one sentence. 

'You don't suck.' 

Iggy laughed, shaking his head with a smile. He grabbed his beer, toasting the picture. 

"I love you too, Mick."


End file.
